Chapter Text
See, the thing is – Seokjin is used to being called “handsome.” That’s generally his whole thing. He’s World Wide Handsome, it’s been his running bit for over a decade. So then why, when Namjoon calls him handsome, or gushes over his likability, or so much as affectionately pats his shoulder – does Seokjin feel every butterfly in the world performing The Nutcracker in his tummy?
Don’t get it twisted; Bangtan has been together for fifteen years and counting, and Seokjin is painfully aware that their intra-group dynamic can often be read as… not entirely platonic. The boys have all had their various, covert, homoerotic interactions for the better part of a decade; military enlistment was just a slight logistical hitch they planned around, not unlike their hectic promotion cycles, or paltry vacation allowances. Seokjin likes to think that the group has a mutual understanding, though, now that he’s thought about it, it’s never been put into so many words.
Someone should probably do something about that, he thinks passively, now, as he watches back the Undercover Online video; focusing back in just in time to watch Jimin reach over to squeeze Taehyung’s pec, in response to a question about what they’d hypothetically say to Taehyung upon first meeting him. This isn’t unusual for them (as he scrolls down to the comment section, he’s unsurprised to see the most upvoted comment is “Vmin are Vmining again”), and yet, something in the familiarity of the gesture is quietly surprising, somehow. Perhaps it’s Taehyung’s lack of reaction to the invasion of his physical space, or perhaps it’s Jimin’s ease and lovely nature; so calm, pleasant, and warm, as he feels Taehyung up on camera.
Face heating up, Seokjin scrubs back to earlier in the video. He watches himself blush and stutter through a characteristically self-deprecating response to an extremely kind question, and his ears burn in anticipation, knowing what he’ll see next. “Hyung is outstanding,” he watches Namjoon insist onscreen, not missing a beat, watching attentively to make sure Seokjin had finished speaking before contradicting him immediately. His inability to make eye contact with Namjoon and respond without a shy giggle has him fighting the urge to rip his earbuds out and scream into his hands.
He watches himself double down, “I try hard, but I think the other members have more talent than I do.” He’d already noted Jeongguk’s supportive little pun on his earlier watch (“Outstand-jin!”), so this time, he lets himself focus on… a different member. One who chuckles sarcastically, makes direct eye contact with the camera (like he’s talking to present day-Seokjin, watching this video on his phone, during a break from dance practice), and says, “That’s such a wholesome answer that it’s making me mad,” (Namjoon. He focuses on Namjoon. And maybe the seriousness in his voice flusters Seokjin all over again, because he watches himself onscreen give his charming-but-flustered chuckle, just as a goofy smile finds its way onto his face now).
He locks his phone screen and pulls his knees up to his chest, burying his head in his arms on top of them, for the rest of the short break. As the boys start to filter back in from the restroom and the water fountain, Seokjin springs up to grab a glass of cool water, hoping it’ll help calm his reddened ears and cheeks.
Though he’s fooled around with various members in the past, all of said dalliances took place years ago, when they were (or felt like) just lost kids. The member he’d done the most with, physically and in terms of vulnerability, was his past roommate, Yoongi – and all they’d done was make out and dry-hump, once, drunkenly; an incident they had both agreed to never mention again. It did make Yoongi, naturally, his closest confidant, when it came to romantic and/or sexual topics, and vice versa. He’d probably kissed every other member at least once (he has logically concluded this, from hazy memories of awkward nights in as young adults; when they’d lament their lonely positions and play games of Truth or Dare, inevitably resulting in at least one pair of them swapping spit, buzzed and touch-starved, until the early hours of dawn), though his memories of those encounters have faded with time and the effects of alcohol.
As he sips his water, he entertains the idea of bringing this up with Yoongi now. They never stopped being close, but at some point, Seokjin just started to internalize these types of thoughts instead of sharing them. They’d mutually agreed to never speak of their drunken encounter because it was embarrassing; but Seokjin hadn’t disliked it. In fact, he’d very much liked it – he spent months lying in bed at night, less than six feet from his spitfire best friend, pressing his fingers to his own lips and reminiscing (or daydreaming) about said best friend’s talented tongue. He’d go so far as to call Yoongi his gay awakening – though that seems too broad to ring true. Maybe Yoongi was his Bangtan awakening.
He goes to take another sip of water, only to realize he’s emptied his cup. He crushes the cup in his hand and tosses it in the bin next to the water fountain, so lost in his own thoughts that he doesn’t even notice Hoseok standing by the practice room’s door as he moves to re-enter the room. His foot catches on Hoseok’s shoe as he passes him, and the ground comes up to meet him too quickly; he would’ve tumbled his way into the room, if Hoseok’s quick reflexes hadn’t kicked in already. Seokjin blinks open his eyes slowly once he realizes he hasn’t hit the floor, only to meet Hobi’s brown ones, sparkling with mirth, one arm slung around Seokjin’s waist, and the other steadying his upper back. Before he can say anything, Hoseok’s face has already morphed into this new expression, the one the members fondly call his “hunter eyes,” and before he’s even opened his mouth, Seokjin knows he’s going to hit him with a cheesy line.
“Hey hyung, come here often? Not even halfway through dance practice, and you’re already falling for me!” Hobi’s eyes are glittering and crinkling, and he’s already laughing, so why are Seokjin’s ears heating up again? “Ha ha ha!” He ekes out an exaggerated, sarcastic laugh as he rights himself on his own two feet quickly, hands reaching to peel Hobi’s off himself before he causes a bigger scene. When they both finally stumble in, he realizes he’s too late; the members are already watching the two of them like they’re the best thing on Netflix. His eyes flit over each of them nervously before he unwittingly, unthinkingly, makes direct eye contact with Namjoon. Namjoon, who’s biting the inside of his cheek, and whose eyes have not left Seokjin’s in the past thirty seconds. He can’t think what he might have done to annoy the leader (besides accidentally disrupting dance practice), and his stomach flips anxiously as he waits for someone to say something.
Finally, Yoongi cuts through the tension that’s settled over the room, “Hobah, could you maybe flirt with hyung on your own time?” He smirks to convey his joking tone, but Seokjin and (he confirms with a quick sideways glance) Hobi haven’t missed the barely-there irritation in his voice. He sneaks another glance at Namjoon using his peripheral vision and notices him burying a chuckle into his palm.
Hobi’s eyes widened before narrowing subtly and landing, determined, on Yoongi. He puts on a saccharinely sweet smile and simpers, “I’d flirt with Yoongi hyungie instead, but hyung always hangs me out to dry!” He pouts and stomps his foot dramatically at this, and Seokjin just barely catches a nervous flicker in Yoongi’s smirk before he catches himself, scoffing and rolling his eyes. The maknaes are seated on the floor in front of the mirror, doing some complicated stretches and watching this exchange between their hyungs like they’re spectating a tennis match. As the tension lingers, they exchange glances and silently agree to help their oblivious hyungs out.
Yoongi is slowly going from annoyed to shy, cheeks pinking up as he pretends to fiddle with an earring, avoiding Hobi’s still-fixed gaze. He turns redder still when Taehyung lazily crawls over to his seat, snatching Yoongi’s attention by playing with his fingers before intertwining their hands together, whining, “Hyung, you said you’d show me that cute video of Tangie chirping at the birds from your window. Can you oldies quit making us witness your mating rituals instead?” This last question, he mumbles into Yoongi’s sweater, as he's gradually buried his face into Yoongi’s tummy while talking.
Jeongguk and Jimin somehow still understand him (the maknaes share some weird telepathy that the hyungs stopped questioning long ago) and they both snort-laugh, giggling breathlessly as the hyungs stand there, as if in a daze. Seokjin doesn’t know how they got here. But to deflect the tension and even more importantly, avoid the leader’s dragon-eyed stare, he breaks away from the hyungs and bear-flops down onto Jeongguk on the floor, wrapping himself around the maknae and burying his face in Jeongguk’s chest. This is normal behavior for them, and maybe Jeongguk is the only member Seokjin can be normal around right now (oh god, please don’t let him jinx that).
Jeongguk chuckles and runs his fingers through the hair at the nape of Seokjin’s neck. Seokjin feels Jeongguk’s laughs as deep rumbles reverberating through the muscled chest underneath him and shivers, pressing his face into Jeongguk more firmly to hide his blushing cheeks. He starts doing the only thing he can think of: blowing raspberries against Jeongguk’s skin, like he used to when they were dumb little kids. It has the desired effect; Jeongguk shriek-laughing and trying to wrestle him off, Jimin giggling up a storm and helping Seokjin hold JK down, and the other members finally broken out of their weird spell, chuckling fondly down at the maknae’s and the fake maknae’s eternal rivalry. From there, the tension successfully dissipated, the members can finish up dance practice and wrap up for the day.
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The boys are staying in a dorm right now, as they gear up for Arirang promotions and the tour. It just makes coordinating their schedules that much easier, if they can plan for all of them to be in one place at least most of the time. Of course, this “dorm” is far more lavish than past Bangtan dorms – an open-plan penthouse, spanning three floors, with a lush, landscaped terrace, enough living space for the seven of them to sprawl out but stay close, a mini recording studio (no prizes for guessing who mandated that offering), and, best of all, a massive, eat-in kitchen with not one, not two, but three gleaming refrigerators: lovingly kept and restocked by the warm, familiar housekeeper who somehow knows exactly when the boys need some alone time.
Each of them have their own tastefully decorated, luxe bedroom. Most nights, Seokjin can't fall asleep in his own, finding it entirely too quiet and serene, almost eerily so. On those nights, he’d either take his pillow and camp in one of the maknaes’ rooms, or he’d grab a spare blanket and head to the cloudlike couch outside the recording studio. Yoongi or Namjoon, sometimes Hobi, tend to work late in there, either on their own music or on Bangtan’s, and hearing the click-clacking of the computer mouse, the quiet drone of samples playing on low volume on the sound system, or a member’s soft mumble-singing or mumble-rapping as they tested this or that melody, always helps to lull Seokjin into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.
Tonight is no different. Dance practice has worn out the members, and they're relatively quiet and toned down as they move through their dinner and nighttime routines. By the time Seokjin emerges from his video game, bleary-eyed and having finally exhausted his brain enough to sleep, the idea of doing so in his immaculate, perfectly quiet bedroom seems detestable. He stops by his room for ten minutes to brush his teeth and take a quick shower in the en-suite, before he puts on his favorite RJ pajamas and takes his pillow down with him to his regular couch.
Only when he gets there does he realize that he'd neglected to grab a blanket. Shaking his head, he sets his pillow down and flops onto his back on the couch, staring at the ceiling and debating if it's chilly enough to bother running back upstairs for a blanket. He can hear one of the boys scribbling away in the studio, and his eyes begin to flutter shut. Yawning, he decides against going to grab a blanket, opting to turn onto his side and tuck both hands under his pillow instead. Sufficiently cozy, he allows the quiet murmurs from the recording studio to drown out the thoughts in his head, and succumbs to his exhaustion.
---
“Shh, don’t wake them! We don’t have anything scheduled until this afternoon, let them sleep in a bit.” Seokjin knows that that’s Hoseok’s gentle, considerate whisper, but he has yet to blink himself fully awake. Registering only that he can sleep in for longer still, he nuzzles his face into the warm, solid, fluffy blanket he seems to have acquired at some point in the night. Something nudges at his brain, then, but he wrinkles his nose and pushes away further conscious thought in favor of chasing his dream back into sleep. He can’t quite remember the dream, but the warm, glowy feeling it left in his chest remains. He’s just drifting off again when his blanket wriggles and clears its throat. His eyes shoot open as he registers the movement and sound.
He has to blink a few times to understand the sight in front of him. All he sees from this angle is a smooth, tan neck; firm, broad shoulders; and he feels a solid chest against his cheek, rising and falling with even, deep breaths. Seokjin’s own back is against the back of the couch, and his front is blanketed completely by the body pressing him there. His own arms are wrapped around the human blanket’s waist, and their arms are wrapped tight around his upper back, holding him in close as they sleep, peaceful and undisturbed. He knows this body, almost as well as he knows his own, and if he was more awake, he would probably reconsider the position they’re currently in. But given that he’s not entirely awake, and has just been given permission to sleep in, he nuzzles his cheek more firmly against Namjoon’s chest and squeezes his eyes closed, trying desperately to fall back asleep as the butterflies in his tummy practice a swing dance this time around. This is a problem for future Seokjin. Current Seokjin is just going to bask in this while he’s allowed.